Thou Shalt Not Love
by Josiii
Summary: When Jasper come back from Iraq, he's haunted with nightmares of his time spent there. Will Alice be able to mend him, or will he seek comfort from another woman? slightly OOC, AH, and non-canon pairings. Rating may change.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: It's been a million years since I've written anything. So here's a shot at my first story in about two years. I hope you guys enjoy it. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight, that privilege goes to the lovely Stephenie Meyer. Lucky gal.**

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_It's so strange… I don't know what day it is, or what time it is, but I'm pretty positive it's twilight. The sky is orange and crimson and foggy, and I'm not sure if it's from the sunset or from the bombs and the war. My helmet sits low on my head and my pack weighs heavy on my back. I can feel the sweat from my forehead work its way down my face and fall off of my chin. My hands grip my weapon so tight my knuckles are white. I'm terrified, but I can't show it. I lead my squad on with a wave of my hand. We creep past the ruins of buildings and cars, through dusty streets, looking for the enemy. Everyone's on the lookout, but we've seen nothing so far. Just as I turn the corner, I spot him. He's got a look of pure terror on his face. He's sweating so much, his thin white t-shirt clings to his body while he shakes. His hand reaches for the pin attached to the homemade bomb on his chest. I've just screamed at my squad to run as I raise my gun to my eye. My finger's on the trigger, but he's faster than I am. He pulls the pin out and I go flying back. My uniform's ripped to shreds as bits of shrapnel and blood cover my chest. I land on my back, about five feet away. I can smell the bits of his dead body smoking, a smell I'll remember for the rest of my life. My chest and arms are on fire and my vision's black and fuzzy around the edges. There's a pitiful groaning sound in the distance, and it takes me a moment before I realize it's coming from me. I can't move my body._

_"Sergeant Whitlock!" I hear someone yell from my right. Or maybe my left, I'm not even sure. Everything hurts. My Corporal invades my vision and I feel someone squeeze my hand. That hurts, too. I moan and close my eyes. I can hear people talking, screaming, and yelling but I can't make out what they're saying. Soon it's all just a dull mumble in my head. Everything goes black. I think I'm dead._

I bolt upright in my bed. The sheets that were covering my body pile at my waist and there's a thin sheen of perspiration coating my bare chest. My right arm is stiff, a result from my encounter with the suicide bomber in Iraq. It was just a dream. No, it was just a nightmare. My heart is hammering in my chest, but I can feel it slowing down now that I'm awake. I rub the back of my neck with my hand and swing my legs over my side of the bed. My face rest in my hands as I feel my wife stir on the other side of the bed.

"Jazz?" she questions, her voice rough from sleep. "Are you okay?" I sigh, feeling guilty I've woken her up. Turning, I place my hand on her ivory arm. Her gray eyes squint at me through the moonlight.

"Yeah, I'm okay Ali," I say. I bend down and kiss her forehead. "Just need a drink of water, that's all."

"Okay Jazzy, night," she all but whispers as she snuggles back under the covers, ready to drift back into sleep. I groan and stand up, making my way from our room to the kitchen. After grabbing a bottle of water, I sit at the kitchen table.

"When will this stop?" I ask myself. I don't know what I'm going to do if it continues.

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**So, did you guys like it? Review if you did or didn't, and I'll continue if it's any good.**


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: I'm still not sure if I want to continue this, so give me feedback on wether I should or not.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight, that privilege goes to the lovely Stephenie Meyer. Lucky gal.**

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JPOV

I woke up on the couch I fell asleep on. Well, more like passed out. After being woken up by my nightmare, I stayed up for around two hours, just drinking water, and then sweating it out. The smell of bacon cooking woke me out of my sleep-fogged state. I could hear my wife moving around in the kitchen, knowing I would want something after my night. I stood up from the couch and padded into the kitchen.

"Good morning Jazz!" Alice chirped at me. She was a little ball of energy, always happy, never groggy. When we first met, I was positive that she was on medication. But no, she didn't need that; she was geeked up enough on life. And shopping. My little Alice loved to shop; shoes, shirts, underwear, dresses, pants, shorts, bags, furniture, groceries, you name it, she loved to shop for it. Her favorite was clothes though. She absolutely _loved _clothes.

"Morning Al," I managed, resting my head on the table. She turned away from her cooking and looked at me, concern covering her petite features.

"Oh, Jasper," she breathed. I looked down, my eyes trained on the grain of our oak table, not meeting her eyes. I knew, after having multiples of the previous night, that I was paler than usual, my eyes were puffy and sunken, with dark circles under them from sleep deprivation. She walked over from the stove and pulled the chair next to mine closer, our knees touching as she sat down. "Jasper," she all but stated, she tiny hands reaching to hold mine, to comfort me.

"I don't know what I'm going to do Alice. I keep having the dreams. The same ones over again." I fidgeted in my seat, my mind travelling to recount my time spent in that hellhole. I withdrew one of my hands from her grasp to rest my forehead in it. Alice started fidgeting herself. I looked up at her and her gaze darted around the room, to look at anything but my eyes.

"I um, I talked to that doctor again," she said, somewhat reluctantly. I groaned and rubbed my face with my hands.

"Alice, why?" She then proceeded to launch into a tirade of reason on why she would have contacted a shrink. Not just any shrink, but someone who specialized in 'dream evaluation'. What a load of crock.

"I think it would do you good to talk to somebody about this, Jasper. This woman is one of the best in her field, and not only does she specialize in dreams and reoccurring memories, but she's dealt with this type of thing before." The last part was whispered, and I cringed.

"This type of thing?" my voice rose a little. She had the courtesy to blush.

"I didn't mean it like that, and you know it. I just meant she's dealt with people in your kind of situation before." I cringed again. 'My situation'.

"My situation?" I questioned, my voice taking on a hard edge. She sighed loudly, exasperated.

"Yes, Jasper, your situation. You know, people who have been in traumatic ordeals." She wasn't budging on this. I sighed, and rested my face in my hand again. I caved; I always did when it came to her.

"Alright Alice, what did she say?" Her demeanor picked up, along with her voice and I could tell it was from winning our little argument.

"She said that while yours is a typically common scenario, she finds things to be slightly off."

"Oh great, I even dream different," I interrupted. I earned a glare for this. A small smile earned me quick forgiveness. She cleared her throat before continuing.

"_And_, she would love to evaluate you. I set up an appointment with you for this afternoon."

"What?! You set up and appointment for me to see a shrink without telling me?" Now I was ticked.

"I'm telling you now," she stated calming, knowing I would go. "It cost a pretty penny Jasper Whitlock, so you better go." Now I had to.

"Ugh," I mutter, while I stood up. "Your bacon is burning." She jumped up from her seat to run to the stove. What used to be bacon was now dried up, black, and shriveled, gray smoke from the pan in plumes. Muttering low curses, Alice turned the burner off, and removed the pan from the stove top to deal with as I stalked out of the room. I was not looking forward to this afternoon.

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**AN: So if you like it, review!**


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